Who killed Chris and why?
by amulet
Summary: Chris was killed in a cafe, by who and what was the real reason for his murder. Tis complete


Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda, yadda

Disclaimer: Not mine, yadda, yadda. The only thing that does belong to me is my thoughts for what happened. Never read the book so if it explains in that then oops on my part. But anyway, no characters are mine.

[amulet-no3@owlpost22.zzn.com][1]

What happened to Chris after he walked into the café? Who stabbed him? Why was he stabbed in a fight that had nothing to do with him? Read on to find out!

Chris Chambers sat quietly on the street outside of a small cafe sipping his coffee. His suit and tie being blown to bits by the hustle and bustle of the windy city. Who would have thought it, Chris Chambers in a suit, a suit that needed to be smart for his important meeting that afternoon. Knowing this fact he decided to move from his table on the street to the quietness inside. He pushed open the café door and took a seat. Having no idea that that door would be the last door that he would ever walk through, alive.

The café, small as it was had become a comfort to Chris, a home away from home. It contained all of the characteristics of a small cafe. The red vinyl stools and booth, the huge windows over looking the movements of others. The counter with the display of cakes, they had all been the same in Castle Rock. It reminded him of Castle Rock and the one true friend that he had left behind, Gordie. His heart felt heavy every time he thought of Gordie. The one person who had believed in him, the one friend who had motivated and helped him to overcome the hardships of the college courses, giving him a chance at a life. But he hadn't seen Gordie in over ten years. He had read every single one of Gordie's books. Glad that Gordie had overcome the hardship that was his father, and become a writer.

__

"I don't want to be a writer, it's a stupid waste of time."

"That's your dad talking."

"Bullshit!"

"Bull true."

The conversation rang in his ears. As did the arguments, the fun, the horror that they had shared that weekend in the summer of '59 with Teddy and Vern in the search for Ray Brower. Those were the days when friendship really counted. He still remembered it all, as if it happened only yesterday. Even the day he thought he was going to die at the hands of Ace Merrill. But that was not to be.

As Chris was lost in his nostalgic reminiscing a fight had broken out in the back corner of the café. Two men yelling and arguing. No one looked ready to step in to split the warring men apart but Chris. He had done so, so many times before. It was his nature, he wasn't fighting then there was to be no fight. Raising from his seat he felt an impulse to just turn and walk away, to leave the men at it, but he couldn't. The café customers were mostly women and young children, or the elderly couple who had been sitting at the back but had been forced to move by the arguing men.

Standing by his table, Chris shouted at the two men. "Hey, why don't you take the fight outta here pal."

Suddenly, one of them punched the other to the floor, then turned towards Chris. "Mind your own business, _pal. _This has nothing to do with you."

"Yeah, it does. You happen to be disturbing all of these people. Now I'm asking you nicely. Please leave?"

"Bog off, man."

"Don't make me ask again."

"Fine, I won't." He turned around and punched the guy again, then turned to leave.

"Thank you." Chris said as the man passed by.

"Not a problem."

Thankful that the problem had not escalated past any unnecessary violence, Chris sat back down. But he was too quick to be thankful. A hand grabbed him from behind, wrapping it around his throat. "Say hi to Eyeball for me, _Chris." _The arguing man had been Ace. Why had he not noticed that before? How did he not see? Chris tried to tell Ace that Eyeball was dead. But before he could say a word a sharp, searing pain infiltrated his throat.

"Told you I'd get you, Chambers."

His body went limp and fell to the ground, somewhere in the back of his head a woman screamed, and a bell chimed as the door opened but the sounds were fading fast. As his life ebbed away, Chris thought back to the good times of '59. "Gordie." His dying breath whispered, and then there was nothing but black.

THE END

   [1]: mailto:amulet-no3@owlpost22.zzn.com



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